With the coin pouch heavy at her side, Zyra Morwyn's first thought was to explore the bustling marketplace.
It was her very first time stepping fully into the human world, to live among them, to experience their ways, and her curiosity stirred like never before.
Back in her days as the White Stag spirit, most of her time was spent secluded in the mountain groves, either cultivating magic or resting beneath the ancient trees. The only joy came from watching the woodland sprites sing and dance.
The elder Phoenix once told her: the human world was filled with many bustling bazaars selling all manner of fascinating trinkets.
Stepping out of Morwyn Keep, if one took the right-hand path and walked for about a league, they would arrive at the lively market streets.
The roads stretched out like a great cross, flanked by shops selling food, wine, fine cloth, weapons, enchanted talismans, and household wares. Street vendors hawked their goods from stalls, while cages and wagons displayed slaves and exotic pets alike.
Zyra glanced left and right, stopping at a bakery to buy a pastry.
She took a bite and wrinkled her nose, it was no comparison to the sweet delicacies crafted by her nine-tailed fox kin.
Next, she entered a tavern, ordering a flagon of wine. The taste was bland and watery, nothing like the rich brews made by the foxes.
Leaving the tavern, she approached a candy sculptor's stall where the vendor called out:
"Come see, come see! Guardians of the Four Corners, the Azure Dragon, the Vermilion Phoenix, the Black Tortoise, and the White Tiger!"
"Master, one Vermilion Phoenix for me!"
"I want an Azure Dragon! Make it new and fresh!"
Zyra's face remained unmoved.
Inside, she cursed silently: That is no phoenix, that's a mere chick with some red sugar stuck to its tail! And that 'Azure Dragon'? More like a little water snake!
In that moment, Zyra pondered seriously,
Did humans have some grave misunderstanding about the true forms of spirits?
She knew that on this continent, besides the central kingdom, there were four other realms, each guarding a cardinal direction.
In the East lay the land of Lingor, whose totem was the Azure Dragon.
To the West, the realm of Taman bore the White Tiger as its guardian.
Southward, the land of Yara was marked by the Vermilion Phoenix.
And to the North, the kingdom of Norran revered the Black Tortoise.
With such totems, the people naturally worshipped these divine beasts, offering incense and carving images in their honor.
Zyra wandered some more, pausing at a shop selling paintings of the Black Tortoise.
She peered at the image with a growing scowl.
That could only be called a turtle, with a snake's tail.
She silently mourned for the Black Tortoise.
One… two… three seconds of solemn silence.
Done.
"Hey, madam! Do you have any paintings of the White Stag?"
Curious beyond measure, Zyra asked suddenly, eager to know how her true fey form was imagined by humans.
The vendor woman blinked, seeing Zyra's noble bearing, simple yet fine clothes, and precious jewelry, clearly someone of wealth.
She forced a smile and said, "The White Stag? Too hideous, my lady. Nobody buys those, they hang them only to ward off evil spirits. Better to get a Black Tortoise, they bring good fortune and protect the home."
Zyra bristled. "Hideous? How so?"
She would not accept such insult!
As the Queen of Spirits, her true form was among the most magnificent.
Moreover, powerful spirits took on the most beautiful shapes.
The vendor scoffed, "It looks like a giant old goat, with eyes all over its body. Any child who sees it runs away crying. No young lady would hang the White Stag in her home. Trust me, the Black Tortoise is far better…"
"You know nothing of the White Stag!" Zyra snapped, her face hardening.
Angry, she turned and strode away, silently noting the Black Tortoise in her mind.
Zyra Morwyn's mood was heavy as she wandered, when she suddenly spotted the steward of Morwyn Keep, Master Wythe.
Wythe was about thirty-five years old, lean and sharp-featured, with piercing brows and sharp eyes that gave off a cutting, disdainful air just by standing still. He was kin to the elder branch of the Morwyn family, a cousin of the Lady Matron's own bloodline.
At that moment, Wythe stood before a large cage filled with rabbits.
The rabbits were snow-white, fluffy, and plump, looking quite hearty.
"How much for these rabbits?" Wythe asked.
"A silver coin for two," replied the vendor, a ragged youth with patched clothes, a blue cloth binding his thin ponytail, his skin pale and worn.
Wythe frowned. "These rabbits must be precious indeed to fetch such a price."
The boy said timidly, "Good sir, these aren't ordinary rabbits. They're Snowbell Hares caught from the Logar Mountains. Their flesh is said to hold a spark of spirit energy, tender and flavorful, much loved by the noble houses. A silver coin for two is not too dear. Look at their pure white coats, top quality, I swear."
Wythe's sharp eyes narrowed, pointing to one with a red streak on its ear and a dark mark on its back. "That one there is a mongrel, no Snowbell Hare. Trying to sneak in and sell it as the real thing? Deceitful."
The boy's face paled, looking guilty. "I... I caught all these from the same den after three nights of waiting in the Logar wilds. That one with the markings was in the same litter. So I thought it was the same breed."
Wythe's voice turned hard: "These were specially requested by the Lady Matron herself. Dare you mix in fakes?"
The boy lowered his head, sweating cold drops.
Seeing this, Wythe smirked with satisfaction. "Fine, I'll buy nine Snowbell Hares for three silver coins, excluding that mongrel."
"That's too cheap! I can't sell them for that," the boy wailed.